Lord Voldemort's Groovy Tupperware Party
by Insontis Exitium
Summary: Tom is back, partying on down with his DE homies, celebrating with booze and plastics, and it's all in the name of Albus Dumbledore's killer. You're cordially invited, and if you decline, he'll kill you! Doesn't it sound jolly? Part 3 now up!.
1. The Echoes of Transgression

A/N: So, I do hope that nobody takes it upon themselves to murder me, set my house on fire, and leave strange formations of assorted Tupperware™ products around my corpse in a ritualistic fashion if they hate this or feel that I am bashing the company/death eaters in general/He Who Must Not Be Named (or his many other names)/Snape. For one, my mother used to sell this cheerily coloured plastic things, and it was through attending those parties all across Durham county that I could create hundreds of surprisingly pleasing (to me, at least) pieces of artwork. Also, I think Death Eaters are rad…bitchy, but rad, and considering how Snape and Voldy are/were/kinda sorta almost not really pretend to exist as Death Eaters or Evil Overlordz®…I'm almost obliged to like them.

For the record, and as my last little moment of blah (too long already, I know, but I'm a rambler), I must mention that I believe Snape is good...not that it matters, anyway, as we're due to find out where that all lies in less than 3 days. momentary fainting

Disclaimer: No characters or products are my creation. This is not to say we have no Tupperware in our house…

Prologue: The Echoes of Transgression

That moment of dread. That nasty sinking feeling. That knowledge, memory, vision. Severus Snape stood, leaned over the wooden barrier of the bridge, gazing down at the river that wound its way through Spinner's End, filled with rage and self-loathing. He was filled with grief over the despicable act, the heinous crime that he himself had committed, that he himself had _committed to. _What a fool he had been, he thought, to not push further and further, to not try harder to convince the old fool that death was far better than betrayal… He contemplated this, as he had for those many hours, and was barely shaken from his reverie when his left arm throbbed, not in its usual way, but rather…oddly. He leered down on it, this mark that was glowing in patches and almost vibrating in a sense. Honestly, this confused him as the Dark Lord _never _did a sloppy job with things…or at least that was the view he had until a greatly suspicious looking owl clad in a miniature standard Death Eater cloak swooped down onto his shoulder, scroll clutched in its lacquer black claws.

As the bird flew off, he unrolled the parchment. Over the face were miscellaneous stains; most were indistinguishable but from what he could tell, there were rings of dragon's blood, firewhiskey and thick gelatinous gloop which he assumed to be the remains of a polyjuice potion. He groaned, trying his best to ignore the blotches, and read what the scroll had to say.

_**Dear Beloved Followers:**_

_**The Dark Lord eagerly invites you all to his**_

_**Tupperware™ Party!**_

_**In honour of esteemed high Death Eater and murder most supreme of Albus Percy Something Something Dumbledore,**_

_**Severus Tobias Snape  
(also a dab hand and potions making)**_

_**You are free to bring whatever you want with you, no Mudbloods or Blood Traitors.**_

_**It's sure to be a laugh, so pop on in!**_

_**If you don't attend, I'll kill you and all the people you care about!**_

_**The Riddle House  
9pm – Bedtime**_

_**I hope to see you there!**_

_**Tom**_

Severus crumpled the paper up in his hand and dropped it into the water. He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathed hard, and straightened himself up. Brushing down his robes, he headed away from Spinner's End silently, wandering just far enough that it was safe to apparate. He raised his eyes to the bitter, dark night, and muttered something inaudibly before disappearing from the spot.

A/N: Sorry, yes, I know its short and doesn't make up for authors not part 1, but it is only a quick intro…to set the scene and such. More soon. Please R&R, give suggestions, product names….whatever….


	2. It's Only Just Begun

A/N: dances I'm back, the party has started! I hope you brought money or a wand, cause Mr. Riddle is a bit pushy with those plastics…

Disclaimer: No characters or products are my creation. This is not to say we have no Tupperware in our house…to be honest, we have far too much…

Chapter One: It's Only Just Begun

It was a fascinating evening for Death Eaters all around the country. Master Severus Snape was a hero, a hero to be welcomed in only the most appropriate fashion.

And thus, it was decided, that a charming young Muggle tradition would be engaged.

It was simply plastics, but the feeling of group belonging and merriment lay at its core.

Catchy, yet annoying, was its name.

Tupperware.

What the fuck, Tom.

Seriously.

So, in the darkest corner, with the darkest expression, sat Severus Snape, desperately trying to ignore all suggestion of just how perfect the 'Fresh 'N Cool™' containers would be for his potions. _What an idiotic idea_, he thought, not caring to invoke any occlumency powers against the Drunk Lord.

This is not to say the Severus himself had not consumed any alcohol, God no, he certainly needed some inebriation among this crowd of buffoons. No, Severus had actually had a great deal to drink but, morbidly, it appeared to have had no effect whatsoever…

He softly moaned, wishing with every ounce of his being that he could be less tolerant of alcohol, that he could be blissfully unaware of the current goings-on of the party, oddly enough in his honour. He was even contemplating hexing himself in order to have no memory at all any longer, but he ignored his perverse fantasies and returned to reality for the greater good, much as it deeply pained him.

Now, seeing the Dark Lord jovial was a daunting experience; the side-effects usually consisted of smiling, dancing, singing (in a plethora of languages, including Parseltongue) obscene drinking songs at a ridiculous volume, weaving, stumbling, stuttering and overuse of pathetic pickup lines. As amusing as most would perceive this, it was actually enough to cause a mental breakdown, if not the implosion of the Earth. This cheeriness was a seldom occurrence and therefore less harmful to those surrounding him, but the sight still sent shivers down Severus' spine. Better yet, that horrendous slurred, off-key crooning about "getting a fine pure-blood woman" sent more shivers making it seem as though he was the only cold person in a stifling hot room.

After a few hours, or days, which ever it was, of idle, drunken chatter (much of which was directed towards him), Severus found himself, still in the dark corner, trying to bludgeon himself to death with a pancake mixer. Being that it was plastic, it really wasn't doing too much in the way of damage. He was so engrossed in hitting himself that he didn't notice the Dark Lord staggering over to him, only realizing when he unceremoniously plodded down in the seat next to him. Now, the two were settled on a soft and roomy chair, yet it was not _that _roomy, making for an uncomfortable situation in all possible sense of the word.

"Oh God," Snape muttered, frozen mid-smack, his eyes wide. The man beside him snaked his arm behind the other, his hand tapping against his shoulder blade. Severus cringed.

"Oh, come now, that's far too much flattery! You…" he paused, smirking and thinking, two things at once! "You can call me Tom. Don't tell anyone though," he whispered, raising one long, spindly finger to his lips, bringing it to Severus and back repeatedly. "If they hear, they'll be mad, okay? Okay."

The man next to him looked dumbfounded, the insanity of the moment leaving him lost for words or actions of any kind. He knew he should have gotten up to run, but his brain was still trying to process just exactly what had just happened. He was shaken from thought when Tom leaned closer to him, tightened his grip on his shoulder.

"It's pretty dark back here, isn't it?" he muttered, practically rolling the words into the others ear. "It's…nice." His leg moved ever so slightly closer, his kneecap touching the black robes adjacent to it. His mouth contorted into what was supposed to be a smile, baring a row of pearly, jagged teeth. The slits that were meant to function as nostrils flared with his shallow breathing. Then, it came. Something scarier than the present company, the location, the darkness, the fact that the world's most dominant wizard was shit-faced…

"This party is dull," he muttered, his face matching his words to a tee. "I need to be entertained…but I've lost my wand." He began to smirk a little.

'_Oh, God no. No._' Severus thought as the other man's hand found it's way awfully high up his inner thigh. '_Of all the lin-_'

"Can I play with yours?" Then his hand moved. Snape's face moved from shock to disgust to confusion, horror, fear, agony… it was all a bit too much. Without uttering a word, he leapt up and stunned the snake-like man, running for dear life right through the door, not stopping until he was well out of sight.

It was lucky for him that nobody even noticed the actions in the dark corner, being that they were drunk, and that should anybody actually recall the events of that evening, he had a slight time advantage to plan out just _how_ he would be able to save his own hide.

One thing was certain, Voldemort's wrath _would_ be felt, and Voldemort _always_ got what he wanted.

A/N: sigh Drunken advances never turn out well in any sense. I hope this one was 1) longer, 2) amusing, and 3) enough to tide you over 'til the next one. I hope to be more expeditious with the next posting!


	3. DO NOT WANT!

A/N: Wow… I took a short break to work on my schoolwork and it took…how long? That's right, half a month…and I got NOTHING accomplished. So, essentially it was a pointless break. I must apologise to you who were reading or perhaps still are.

Here's to you, my beloved plastic populace. I hope you enjoy it…somewhat.

Disclaimer: I decided to shed my material possessions. I own nothing but my body, mind and soul. This also means I'm a nudist now...and not so well liked by neighbour and her children.

Chapter 2: DO NOT WANT!

He was running blindly, dashing through bush and tree, branches scratching all over his face and body, his breathing ragged. He didn't know if he was being pursued but all the same he didn't really care to find out. Still pounding against the darkened grass, he checked over his shoulder, wary of the danger he could be faced with.

He came to a stop and leaned over the hands he had placed on his trembling thighs. He panted, out of breath and exhausted, taking a while to rest before surveying his surroundings. It was black, all around him varying stages or dark, barely visible trees, hills and other things. He looked up at the sky and found it devoid of starlight and host to a tiny sliver of moon.

'Bloody marvellous,' he thought as his eyes strained to see. Feeling a little of his strength renewed, he stalked forwards, wand in hand, and searched for shelter. The wind was forcefully dragging everything with it; the leaves, dust, hair – nothing was free of its grasp. His robes were billowing beside him, his hair threatening to suffocate him, and his heart pounding against his chest. He stalked over to a particularly dark patch of land, prepared to apparate, and soon was no longer there.

It was bright. It wasn't only bright; it was unbearably bright, like industrial power torches being thrust into unwilling eyes. The sweet smells of grass, honeysuckle and rain permeated every inch of the atmosphere, the smell of happy.

It was enough to make him sick.

He certainly hadn't intended to apparate that far from home, and he certainly shouldn't have been able to apparate that great a distance, but he had. Here, whereever he was, was in the full bloom of morning, at least 7 hours ahead of where he last stood.

He was in Japan.

Not only was he in Japan, but he was in Okinawa. And he was hot.

The sun was beating down upon the hill with a strange ferocity. Severus sighed and plodded around, certainly looking for a place to die, sweaty and drenched in various states of black. The area was blissfully free of people yet full of the happy chirping of various flying animals like something out of a horrendously corny Disney film. Yes, he almost expected to see Julie Andrews fall out of one of the surrounding trees, it was _that_ bad.

He strode through the lengthy grass, shielding his eyes from the sun, sky and happy, and made for shelter again.

The pot smashed against the wall in his angry fit of range. It was true, the alcohol-induced headache was threatening to rip his skull apart, but his anger was far more potent right now.

Lord Voldemort, looking slightly shabbier and weaker this morning, paced the bare room hastily; his robes swishing and his bare head gleaming the sunlight like an ironic halo. He eyed the shards of the pot on the stone floor with contempt, as though the pot itself had rejected his advances and fled. Feeling the ire radiating from him, most of the Death Eaters stayed well away, Bellatrix being the only one stupid or smart enough to approach.

"My Lord," she uttered, bowing down in respect. She slowly raised herself and met his eyes. Her gaze was returned in a most dangerous manner.

"What, Bellatrix?" His words rippled through her. Her heart sped up its pace.

"My Lord, if you are needing certain…" she paused for effect. "_Services, _I am more than willing."

He looked her over thoughtfully, his expression unreadable.

"I do not require your _services_,"he said quietly. He turned away from her and continued pacing.

"But, my Lord…Snape…" She had evidently said the wrong thing when he snapped his head around to face her again.

"Irrelevant!" She backed away in fright as his hand sliced through the air towards her cheek. "The events of last night matter not, you impudent bitch." She almost looked scandalised at his comment, as though he'd never used such a term against her before.

He took the tiny steps to get unbearably close to her, thrusting his long hand under her chin and grasping it painfully. He pulled her lips a breath away from his own. She shuddered at contact, not from fear r disgust, but from pure lust and want.

"My only need right now," he hummed, his voice low and silky with a slight hint of a hiss. "Is to find and kill that traitor."

Everyone in the room shot up at his words, making like little toy soldiers in a row, and raised their hoods.

"Go, all of you," he demanded, "Check for all apparition traces."

Without another word said, the hooded black army disapparated from the room in hunt of Snape. When he was sure there'd be no interruptions, the Dark Lord wandered over to the sofa he had acted on the previous night and sat down, patting the space next to him almost tenderly. In a split second he was trying to choke the life out of the seat cushion.

Panting and shaking, he released his grip, sighing and shaking his head.

"He didn't buy any damned Tupperware," he grumbled, slamming his hand down on the armrest. "I'll show him just how fucking useful it is…"

A/N: -Pft- Well, way overdue and short…but I tried, damnit, I tried. I tried posting and writing so many times but with babysitting… Well, I get told off by the little girl when I'm on because she gets bored just reading the comics on Deviantart… I hope it's not too bad. No, there was no action in this, I'm sorry. Next chapter will be more interesting. I won't say much but I will say that Sev won't be left alone in Okinawa long. And the Tupperware shall prevail.


End file.
